Just Like You
by FishInAFadora
Summary: Epic AU. How is it that the Boggans always come back for the forest, and the Leafmen are always able to keep them at bay? Each side has an ace up their sleeve. For Ronin, that ace is M.K., a Leafgirl he's apprenticed to be the next general. For Mandrake, it's the teenage Boggan he trained to be his assassin since the age of seven.
1. Today's the Day

**Inspired by the song "Just Like You" by Three Days Grace. **

**Disclaimer: The only Epic thing I own is my talent for stories (wow, Im the most modest person I know) ;)**

* * *

"_**I could be mean. I could be angry. You know I could be just like you."**_

* * *

_First day of Leafmen training,_ she thought. _Why did I sign up again? _

M.K. winced as her thighs, calves, abs, and-well every muscle burned with pain. She felt utterly drained of strength, energy, and even emotion, as she trudged towards the barracks.

"You rookies get a two-minute shower!" the drill sergeant barked at them. "Then its inspection and off to bed. You'll need it."

M.K. couldn't agree more, and the other recruits groaned at the thought of a hot shower and a pillow. Then she scoffed at herself. _The water will most likely be cold. And the bed will be like sleeping on a rock. Still, this is better than home._

She was almost to the barracks when she heard the scuff of a boot on the rocky ground. Instead of turning around to see what it was, M.K. quickened her pace. She thought it was the sergeant ready to yell at her for not doing as many push-ups as the rest of them. _I'm almost to the showers!_

"Hold it their soldier," a commanding, but neutral, voice sounded behind her. Wearily, M.K. stopped and turned around...to be face to face with General Ronin, renowned and legendary leader of the Leafmen!

She was awestruck for a second before remembering protocol and saluted, making herself stand straight as a rod, despite her protesting muscles. "Sir!"

"At ease," he said, and M.K. relaxed though watched him attentively. His face gave nothing away, his blue eyes studying her and boring into her green ones.

"Did I do something wrong sir?" she queried, not sure if she was allowed to speak first but did it anyway.

"No, you didn't." At that, M.K. was confused. If it wasn't a mistake, then what had drawn Ronin's attention to her?

"I was impressed by your skills today," he said. Her eyebrows shot to her hairline, shocked that this man, of all people, would be impressed. By what exactly, she didn't know. He continued, "In the unarmed combat lesson, you seem to expect your opponent's every move before he made it. And in the strategy class, you placed your troops exactly where I would put them."

M.K. thought back to the day's early class. They were divided into groups of four and given a map of the forest, and little wooden Leafmen on hummingbirds. The teacher instructed them to find the best place on the map to lay an ambush on a horde of Boggans coming from the north. Hypothetically of course.

The red-head shrugged. "I just put figurines on a map, and the teacher didn't even look happy about where I put them."

Ronin shook his head. "Many of the recruits kept their troops together, but you scattered them. You did something different."

M.K. bit her lip as she thought of a way to explain her actions to the general. If she came up with a sound reason, he'd lessen her punishment. "They are always telling us to expect the unexpected when it comes to Boggans or any other enemy. I just thought it was a good idea at the time. For us to do the unexpected."

For the longest time, Ronin stared at M.K. and she found herself staring right back. She didn't know why, but she felt like she was being tested.

Then the man nodded, seeming satisfied. "You and I will be talking more Mary Katherine. You better hit the showers now." He turned to walk away.

"It's M.K." she said automatically, then cringed when the words left her mouth. Ronin turned back, one eyebrow raised. She continued awkwardly, "It's shorter and more convenient that way."

The general dipped his head. "Very well, M.K. Good luck with the rest of your training." Back straight, he strode away toward the center of Moonhaven.

M.K. stared at his retreating back for a while. She was able to read between the lines. _"I will be watching you from now on" _

Finally, it sunk in. God, she had drawn the interest of General Ronin! He was second only to the Queen Tara herself! And she had impressed him! Her mind raced with renewed excitement as she jogged to the barracks. Her spirits were so high, she didn't care if she had missed her shower.

_Why did I sign up for this? Oh yeah. For that._

* * *

M.K. blinked as she pulled herself out of the memory. That had been two years ago, when she was sixteen and a new recruit. Back then, she was unfit, inexperienced, and not very confident. Looking at where she was now, M.K. had gone through a dramatic change.

Now, she walked like she owned the place. She could fight a man blindfolded and shoot an arrow through the eye of a mouse. The Leafmen's training regimen had done wonders to her body. She was stronger, faster, and more determined. She even had her share of Boggan skirmishes when she was on border patrol from time to time. _Yes, that girl three years ago has been shaped into something more amazing._

At the moment, her career of combat was about to take a new turn. For today was the day she would be tested. If she passed, and she had the highest confidence that she would, M.K. will officially become General Ronin's protégé. The next in line to take up the mantle of the leader of the Leafmen!

All she had to do was answer the questions the high-ranking council and Queen Tara would ask her. If her answers satisfied them, they promote her to the next test; a simulated field exercise where she would command her own force. M.K. got dizzy just thinking about it! She knew now how it felt to be excited and nervous at the same time.

_Today's the day_.

* * *

"Get up, weakling."

Panting and his limbs shaking from exertion, the seven-year-old Boggan pushed himself up from the floor and glared at his sparing partner. He could hardly hold his short sword's tip above the ground.

"I'm not weak!" the small Boggan spat, showing off his pointed teeth.

The larger Boggan snorted. "Your defense is slow, your offense is sloppy, and you leave your left side so wide open, a baby Jinn with a twig could get through it! Now raise that sword and come at me again."

The little Boggan glared and stood still. He was too tired for another round; couldn't his idiot teacher, Jok, see that? He was only seven and it was pass midnight. He just wanted to go to bed.

Jok grinned wolfishly when his young student refused to comply. He didn't care how tired the boy was. If he decided to be defiant, that just gave Jok an excuse to beat on him and vent some frustration. Not that he needed an excuse.

"Alright Drake," the Boggan sneered. "You've been quite rebellious and annoying lately. I don't know what you're going through, and I don't care, but that just makes you my punching bag. So stand still." Jok sheathed his bone weapons and cracked his fists. "This is going to hurt you more than it hurts me."

Drake stood his ground as the Boggan loomed over him. He knew this would happen, but he was beyond caring. Maybe he'd get lucky and be knocked unconscious. Or better yet, he'll get internal bleeding and die. It was a painful way to go out, but his whole life was already full of pain, so much so that he wouldn't be able to make out a difference. At least in the end, his agony will finally fade away.

Jok's fist descended towards his head and Drake closed his eyes, waiting for the impact.

It never came. Another Boggan suddenly sprang out of nowhere and caught Jok's fist with his hand. It was the equivalent of Jok punching a wall. The other Boggan stepped between him and Drake, making Jok back up to keep his balance.

"What-" Jok was cut off by a vicious uppercut. The Boggan swiftly placed his foot behind Jok's heel, and Drake's teacher went down. The little Boggan watched with wide eyes as his former assailant scrambled away, scared out of his wits by this new attacker.

"Beat it Jok," the Boggan said. "I have no use for you now."

The Boggan's voice sounded very distinguished to Drake's ears. He didn't own the throaty, guttural accent that most of the Boggans had. He was tall, well-muscled, and a bat cloak flowed down his back from his shoulders. The bat's torn ears pointed up from his head, and he held a poisonous staff by his side.

"King Mandrake," Drake gasped and immediately got down on one knee and looked at the ground. The huge Boggan shuffled toward him, and Drake stared at his feet. He felt gracious for the King of the Boggans saving him, but he was also scared that such a notorious figure even took notice of him.

"Stand young one," Mandrake ordered. The little Boggan got up on shaky legs, keeping his gaze down. "Look at me," the King said. Drake hesitantly met the glowing gold eyes that studied him with startling intensity.

"What's your name?"

"Drake," he croaked.

Mandrake smirked. "That's almost like my name."

Drake nodded and averted his gaze back to the floor. Mandrake smiled at him. "You've got a strong grip on your sword for a...how old are you?"

The little Boggan mumbled his answer and Mandrake cocked his head. "Speak up, child. And look at me when you are talking."

Instantly obeying him, Drake met his eyes. "I'm seven."

"And you can already hold a sword and swing it!" the King praised. "What else can you do?"

The little Boggan hesitated before saying, "I can throw a knife."

"Can you now? What about a bow, can you draw back the bowstring?"

Drake shook his head, knowing full well that he wasn't strong enough for that yet. Mandrake didn't seem disappointed. "That's fine. We'll work on it when you're older."

"We?" His face scrunched up in confusion.

"Yes. You're coming with me to Wrathwood." Mandrake turned back to Jok, who was still cowering on the ground. "You're dismissed. I'll take up Drake's training from here." Without another glance, the King strode away, his bat cape billowing behind him. Drake took the opportunity to stick his tongue out at his hated enemy before quickly following the Lord of Bats.

For a while, they navigated the marshy ground and rotting vegetation in silence, Drake having to jog to keep up with the older Boggan's long strides. Then Mandrake broke the quiet. "You haven't even said thank you, boy."

"I'm sorry my lord," Drake quickly replied. "Thank you for saving me."

"And don't you forget it," he chided. "I have big plans for you."

* * *

Drake shook his head. _Stupid,_ he thought. _I have to stop getting so distracted by my memories._ That particular one was twelve years ago. He wasn't that weak little Boggan boy anymore. Mandrake had seen to that.

Under the King's tutelage, Drake became a killing machine. Though Mandrake did not go easier on him, he didn't beat him every time he messed up, like Jok did. From Mandrake, the Boggan learned to never rebel against his superiors. It made sense to Drake, now that he saw no reason to refuse anything of his master. Every time he felt that unnatural defiance rise up in him again, he remembered how Mandrake had saved him from Jok's brutality.

He was taller now, lean with toned muscle that portrayed speed and strength. The young Boggan knew he was different from the rest of his kind. His skin was darker than the other Boggans, and he had an unruly mess of thick black hair. His ears were pointer, his face flatter, and he didn't have as many teeth. But he was a Boggan. He had the skin, the yellow eyes, and the bloodthirsty drive to wage war. He could fight with any weapon you put in his hands, and he'd use like it he was born to.

Mandrake had trained him as his personal assassin. Drake could disappear into the shadows or the gray background at his leisure. His movements were as quiet as a ghost. The young Boggan committed his first kill when he turned ten.

A stupid Boggan had betrayed his King and was spilling secrets to the Leafmen. Drake had tracked him to the border, where the spineless traitor was meeting with a patrol of a dozen green warriors. From the way he was acting, the Boggan was about to tell the Leafmen an important secret. He couldn't help but smirk when he remembered how the Leafmen leaned in, eager ears pricked to listen. The Boggan never got the chance. Drake's arrow shot him through the head and the arrowhead skewered the traitor's tongue. He'll never talk again.

Drake mentally face-palmed. _Ugh, I did it again! Gotta focus!_

Now wasn't the time to be reminiscent! The day had finally arrived. It was his coming of age and the thirteenth day of the fifth month, also known as Boggan Fight Day. _They really couldn't have come up with a more dazzling name? _

It was the time where young Boggans would show off their fighting, tracking, and flying skills. Their demonstration would get them into the army, and if they were really good, a promotion would be given. Drake had already proven himself to be an extraordinary assassin, but only in Mandrake's eyes. This tradition would help him gain acceptance from the other Boggans.

_Today is the day._

* * *

**Please review! For all who are waiting for Rise of the Rose King's sequel, know that I am working on that, but this is just an in between sort of fic**

**hoped you liked it! Be nice and review**


	2. Demonstrations

"_**I could be fake. I could be stupid. You know I could be just like you."**_

* * *

M.K. stood in the at-attention-pose, her back straight and hands folded behind her. She scanned the faces of the elderly or middle-aged men and women that sat before her. The Leafgirl was standing in front a crescent-shaped table, beautifully carved from hickory wood. The Council of Moonhaven was lounging in high back wooden chairs with cushioned sheets. Documents, quill pens, and ink wells were placed in front of them on the table.

M.K.'s armor gleamed with fresh polish, as did her leather belt. Strapped to the left side of the belt was the Leafmen's standard issue katana, a beautifully crafted weapon of combat. On her right side hung a coiled up whip. It was her favored weapon and she had mastered it. To any one else, it was a floppy, awkward length of leather, but in her hands, it was a lethal extension of her arm. She could grab anything that stood four meters away and not move her feet, and it left stinging wounds when it struck flesh.

The young Leafgirl looked herself over again, making sure there wasn't a scuff mark or wrinkle on her uniform. It felt like she had been standing there for five minutes, and her back and legs were beginning to ache. The interview would not begin until Queen Tara arrived.

Just as the thought crossed her mind, the door opened and the Queen glided into the room. Every time M.K. laid eyes on Tara, she marveled on how the woman could move so gracefully. Her elegant white petal dress trailed behind her, and the air-filled with the scent of summer. General Ronin followed in her steps dutifully, holding his helmet against his side. The Council stood from their chairs and bowed, M.K. following suit.

Queen Tara's liquid brown eyes met hers and she smiled encouragingly. "Let us begin this induction meeting," she said to the Council.

The men and women returned to their chairs, and Tara sat gracefully in the center of them. Ronin placed himself to the side, locking gazes with M.K. He gave her the smallest quirk of smile.

"Please state your name and rank for the records," an elderly man requested.

"Lieutenant Mary Katherine Radcliffe."

"And you wish to be General Ronin's protégé?"

"Yes sir."

These questions weren't necessary, for the Council already knew the answers to them, but it was protocol. They were easy to reply to: 'Your birth date is May twenty-fourth, correct?'. 'Yes sir, it is.'. 'And you have completed the Leafmen training regimen?'. 'That is correct, ma'am.' And so on.

With that part complete, the Queen called Ronin forward. "Please give an account to the Council and myself that you either recommend or object to this girl becoming your protégé."

Ronin cleared his throat than began. "Mary Katherine is one of the best of our ranks. When she began training two years ago, she already possessed tactical understanding, therefore surpassed her other peers in strategies class. Her determination is what allowed her to get this far, and she will go further, that I'm certain of. Most importantly, she's flexible. M.K. is willing to take the initiative, and solve problems in new, creative ways. Out in combat, most plans do not go as planned, and when we are lacking in improvisers, then we're in a tight spot. M.K. is willing to take risks that most don't dare to."

M.K. fought to keep the smile of her face, and her chest swelled up with pride. Still though, she had to retain the air of dignity and professionalism.

"In short, I would be honored to be her mentor," Ronin finished. "She has potential and I wish to be the one to kindle it."

The Council took this in consideration, most scribbling notes on their papers. Tara smiled warmly at Ronin and M.K. The Leafgirl allowed the smile to break the surface. What can she say? When the Queen smiled in your direction, you tend to smile back.

"Thank you General Ronin," Tara said. "And thank you Mary Katherine...or do you prefer M.K.?"

"Either is fine your Highness. M.K. is just more convenient to say."

Tara dipped her head. "Very well M.K. For your field simulation, you must meet Officer Laure outside the barracks two o'clock today. Don't be late. You're dismissed."

"Wait, that's it?" the red-head blurted out.

"Yes, that is all. You may go."

M.K. pushed aside her bewilderment and bowed. "Good day your Highness, and you to Councilmen." She straightened and turned for the door. Ronin walked out into the stone hall with her.

"I suggest you get some rest," Ronin said once the door closed behind them. "The questions may have been easy, but the simulation exercise is anything but!"

"I didn't think the interview would be easy like that," M.K. admitted. "I thought they'd put me under a light and rack my brain until I was in a catatonic state."

The general chuckled. "The Council lets that rumor fly to work you up. They were testing how level-headed you were. They needed to be sure that you can be calm in stressful situations. You did very well, actually."

"Thanks," she replied. The pair came to a crossed hallway and stopped. "Well, I should go. I meeting Cece outside, and then I'll rest up."

"Just remember, outside the barracks, two sharp, and Officer Laure."

"I know, I know," she brushed off, half-heartedly annoyed. She waved as she walked away from him, then turned the corner. When she was sure no one was looking, she fist bumped the air and skipped merrily. That protégé position was hers!

M.K. walked outside, squinting as the sunlight dazzled her vision. Her best friend Cece was waiting for her.

She met the brown-eyed beauty in Leafmen training. They had been paired as a team when there was a field exercise and had struck an instant friendship. Cece was tall, slim, and had olive skin. The rules required her to have her hair cut short or in a ponytail . Cece refused to cut her curly, black mass of hair and when no one was around, she let it hang loose.

"Well, how did it go?" she asked as M.K. approached her.

"I'm doing the simulation!" M.K. claimed with glee. Her elation was contagious and Cece joined in.

"Girl, that's great!" They both jumped for joy, enjoying the BFF moment.

"When is it?"

"At two today. I've got four hours to kill. Ronin suggested I get some rest."

"Good idea. Then afterwards, we'll celebrate! There's this party at Nim's tonight, and a little birdie told me that Kaiden is going."

The red-head sighed in exasperation. "Oh come on, Cece. I told you I'm not into him anymore."

"You have a crush!"

"That was when I was a pre-teen, and he had no interest in me then. I don't think anything's changed."

"But you'll have the title of being General Ronin's assistant, and that's almost being second-in-command! That will draw his attention."

M.K. argued, "First of all, I still have to ace the field test. I might not pass. And second of all, if it takes a military title to get a guy's attention, then maybe he's not worth it."

Cece scoffed. "Please, it's a guarantee that you'll pass! They may as well just hand it to you now, I mean, you're amazing and perfect for the job! But I guess I'll just have to prove you wrong at the party tonight," she finished with a smirk.

The Leafgirl smirked back at the challenge. "Yeah, we'll see. Let's get some brunch, shall we?"

* * *

The noise was deafening enough for Drake to make his ears lay flat, yet that did not save them from the abuse. Surrounding him on all sides were crowds of jeering, screeching, rambunctious Boggans. They were brandishing their weapons and hollering war cries at him. They were loud enough to rattle his nerves, and he clenched his fists to keep his hands from reaching his bone knives.

They were not attacking him, but he almost wished that they would. Then at least he would have an excuse to vent his irritation.

He was in the heart of Wrathwood. King Mandrake and Prince Dagda sat in elevated thrones, above the throng. Drake envied to join them...but not yet. First, he has to go through this.

"My fellow Boggans!" the speaker Boggan announced in an impressively loud voice. "Before you stands a warrior of the shadows!"

The crowd ate it up and roared louder. _Idiots,_ Drake thought. _If they want to hear the rest of the story, they'll have to shut up!_ That's all it was: a story.

"This here is Drake! Son of nobody and the favorite assassin of King Mandrake himself! His black skin allows him to call the darkness to his will. The shadows can wrap him up faster than you can blink, and you won't see him again until it's to late! His very soul is cold and hard, like ice, and he'll kill you without a thought! So don't cross him, unless you want to see the wrong end of his knives!"

If the Boggans could get any louder, than they did, until Drake was sure he could feel the palace shaking. Without moving his head, the young Boggan flicked his gaze up at Mandrake. The Lord of Bats was impassive, his face blank and not giving his thoughts away. His son seem to have a permanent sneer, like he didn't believe anything the speaker said about him.

Granted, the speaker was known to exaggerate beyond the moon, but Drake's hands itched to grab his knives. He'll show everybody what he can do, and they'll regret every shunning and judging him!

"On that note, my fellow Boggans, let's bring out the targets! Let this young fighter prove himself ten times over!" the speaker said.

The mass of monsters roared their approval. Other Boggans came into the ring, carrying wooden circles with lines painted on them. They set the three targets on the far side of the ring, and Drake walked to the other side. The targets were one hundred paces away, and the Boggans' clamor was enough to throw of any warrior's concentration. _Not me,_ he thought smugly. _This is too easy._

The horde quieted only a little as they waited in anticipation. Drake grabbed a knife and pulled it out slowly, adding his drama to the performance. He spread his legs to shoulder-width, pulled his arm back, and eyed the bullseye.

The crowd watched as the young Boggan threw his knife with ease. Their eyes tried to follow it but it went to fast, and they heard the thunk before they saw it in the bullseye. The Boggans screeched in excitement. Drake couldn't help but grin.

Later, he would contemplate that he let the demonstration get to his head. But he knew it was more of pride and cockiness, and he'd berate himself for it. But in that moment, he wanted to stun these Boggans with his amazing skills. _What the hell,_ he thought. _The speaker did say I had to prove myself ten times over._

Before the speaker could begin his speech again, Drake was flicking another knife at the second target. The Boggans didn't even see it this time, but they screamed their approval when it hit the center.

Drake decided to add some style to it. He leaped high into the air and hurled another knife. Another dead shot! He flipped, rolled, jumped to the side, and even did a back flip, all the while throwing his projectiles and striking the center every time! Drake let out a little cackle. This was the most fun he had in years! He risked a glance back and saw that Mandrake was actually smirking! Dagda looked shocked. The Boggan speaker was at a loss for words, for once!

_Sitting targets are too boring,_ Drake thought. _I need a real challenge if I want them to accept me. _He spotted some Boggans leaving the excited mob and heading for the exit. They looked angry. _Jealous much? _Grinning like a wolf, Drake unsheathed three knives, one for each.

The first Boggan was wearing a ragged, pitiful cape. The assassin hurled his knife for it. The weapon pinned the cape to the wooden wall, making the Boggan shriek in fear. The second Bog turned to glare at Drake, only to have his skull helmet ripped off his head. The astonished Bog looked to see his prized headgear hanging on the wall by a knife, which must have missed his head by a few centimeters. The third Boggan roared in fury and charged the upstart.

Drake ducked the first, wild punch. He evaded the second. The Boggan threw his fists, only to hit air every time. Drake avoided the attacks with ease. The Boggan suddenly screamed in pain. He looked at his palm to see a long, bloody scratch on it. Drake was holding a knife in his hand, the tip dripping crimson liquid on the floor. No one had even seen him draw it.

The Boggan lunged for Drake again, but Mandrake's voice stopped him. "Enough!"

The mass, the Boggan, and Drake froze at the booming voice. The King stalked down the steps of his throne, staff in hand and his bat cloak wrapping him in fearful shadows.

Every creature in the room lowered to their knees and bowed their heads. Drake dropped his knife. His blood turned to ice when Mandrake's feet stopped in front of him.

"This demonstration has gone far enough," he growled. "You!" he snapped, addressing the Boggan with the bleeding palm. "You and your friends were leaving? Well then, get out of my sight! You're getting blood on my floor."

The Boggan scurried away after his friends, grateful to be out of there. The hair on the back of Drake's neck stood on end when he felt the Boggan King's scathing gaze on him. Instead of impressing his mentor, he had anger him. Perfect.

"Think yourself so skillful, Drake?" The assassin looked up at him, bravely meeting the glaring, golden eyes. "Hell, give it a few more years of discipline, and you might actually pose a threat! If you really want to show off, then kill an adult moccasin and bring me its skin. Without your weapons."

Drake stood and gloomily emptied his sheaths of knives, throwing every last one down until he felt naked. He even parted with his short swords strapped to his back, hidden by his shirt. Mandrake knew it was there. The King looked pointedly at his sleeves and boots. Drake consented and pulled his daggers out from their hidden sheaths. All his weapons laid at Mandrake's feet, a pile of sharpened bone and hardened sticks.

"You better hurry, assassin," Mandrake said, unemotional. "You have until sun-up tomorrow. Bring me back a trophy or your shattered honor."

Drake was dismissed and turned to leave. He ignored the stares of the Boggan horde and kept his head high and eyes forward. When he was outside, he let out a sigh of disappointment.

_Fool. This is what happens when you try to be yourself._

* * *

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	3. When Hunters Clash

**Yo fellow readers, just some quick response. ****I am NOT shipping MK with Drake****, that's not how roll.**

**Also, do not fear, Nod is in this story. He'll just be coming in a little later.**

**Virtual cookies for anyone who can guess where Nod is! :D**

* * *

"_**You thought you were standing beside me. You were only in my way. You're wrong if you think that I'll be just like you."**_

* * *

At the moment, Drake's tracking know-how was being tested to there limits. He had trudged along the stream bank for over an hour now. His feet were sore and his waist felt naked without his knives. His deadline was sunup tomorrow; if he didn't return to Wrathwood with a trophy before then, he could kiss the hope of joining the army goodbye.

The young Boggan decided to sit down on a rock embedded in the sand. He felt the heavy weight of expectation on his shoulder, and he was tempted to lament to any godly being listening and complain to them about his situation. But that wouldn't get him anywhere. If only he had been allowed to ride his grackle, Merle. Then he'd be able to transverse the land with ease. But he doubted that Mandrake would allow him his bird after the show he had made.

_I need weapons. If only I had my knives and swords!_ That's when the idea struck him. Boggan weapons were often just sticks or bones, treated with their infamous Rot poison. They didn't have any of that fancy rock that the Leafmen used for their swords, nor did they have the skill to make those. If he put in the effort, nature would give him the materials he needed to make something.

Getting up from his rock, Drake looked around him. Brambles were clustered together at the edge of the stream, with dead vines trailing along them. Broken twigs littered the marshy ground. Drake peered closer at the brambles. The thorns were long enough for a makeshift knife, but he needed more than that if he was taking down a venomous water snake.

Drake grabbed a twig that was longer than his arm. It was a start. He found a pebble and used it like a hammer, repeatedly hitting it on a thorn until it was torn from the stem. The Boggan repeated the action until he had two dozen broken thorns. In the process, he nicked his bare arms on the thorns and scratched himself but he ignored the pain and went to work. Using a sharp thorn, he sawed off a length of the vines.

It took him perhaps twenty minutes, but he was able to tie half of the thorns to the twig with the vines. He held up and looked it over. The thorns were sticking out to create a spiny weapon, like a cross between a sword and a cudgel. He was pretty proud of his handiwork. Drake slipped the other twelve thorns into his belt strap. They were too unbalanced to throw, but he might still need them.

So he had his means of fighting; now all Drake needed was a water moccasin. He reviewed everything he knew about the reptile. They spent most of their time in the water, but they had to bask in the sun to regulate their body temperature. The sun was high in the sky now, and due to the wasteland's lack of live trees, their wasn't much shade. Drake felt certain that there had to be at least a few snakes somewhere along this stream.

The young Boggan jogged along the bank, keeping clear of leaf litter and twigs. He was hunting now; he had to be quiet.

Half an hour later, after following many twists and bends in the creek and trekking through marsh grass, mud, and cattails, his efforts were rewarded. Parting the grass stalks, he spied a rock. Resting on it was a large, brown serpent. It was enjoying the sun's rays, its eyes closed. The tongue flickered out now and then to catch the scents of the bogs.

It was the perfect trophy to bring back to Mandrake. If he took down this brute, the Boggans would have to give him a parade! Drake eagerly started for it, holding his thorn sword to the side.

The cottonmouth had been lying in the sun for a while, and hadn't noticed the approaching Boggan until it was almost in front of its nose. It reacted sluggishly and reared its head. Drake wasted no time in attacking, swinging the sword at the exposed belly and drawing long slashes on the surface.

The snake hissed and scooted back, surprised at the audacious attack. Moccasins were not normally aggressive, opting for retreat if they were confronted. Drake could not let it reach the water, the snake's haven, which is why his first attack was so head-on. The assassin made sure to put himself between the serpent and the stream.

Which was a really crazy and stupid idea.

The snake tried to maneuver around him, but Drake was there to swipe at it. He had drawn several bloody scratches on the snake's soft belly but that didn't slow it down. After a few more attempts of getting around the Boggan, the cottonmouth decided to turn tail and slither for safety in-land.

"Coward!" Drake snarled as he strapped his sword and leapt for the snake's back. He landed, drew a thorn from his belt, and stabbed it into the scaly skin. The wound wasn't deep; it only served to anger the animal.

The venomous moccasin turned so fast, Drake barley dodged in time. It was fully aroused and focused on getting rid of this annoyance. The assassin ran along the writhing body, evading the snake's attempts to bite him. The snake's fangs flared and its mouth was lined with white tissue; the reason it was called a cottonmouth.

Drake scrambled up the neck and on to the head. The serpent shook back and forth, trying to dislodge him. Holding with all his might, he reached for a thorn. The Boggan raised it up, intending to plunge it in the snake's amber eye.

Suddenly, the monster contorted. Caught off guard, Drake spotted the trick too late and his grip was lost when the cottonmouth bucked. He flew through the air and landed on his back, the wind leaving his lungs.

The snake's mouth filled his vision. It was only his quick reflexes that saved him. Rolling away, Drake pulled another thorn from his belt, twisted, and stabbed the snake's nose. The moccasin slithered back then came at him again. The assassin jumped to avoid the lethal bite. He landed lightly behind the snake and watched the head.

That was a costly mistake.

Because Drake paid attention only to the fangs, he didn't see the tail sweeping around to catch him. The heavy, muscled body slammed into the young assassin, knocking and pinning him to the ground. His breaths came in great gasps, like he couldn't get enough oxygen to his lungs. To his horror, the tail proceeded to wrap around his lithe form, enclosing him in a suffocating embrace.

The cottonmouth loomed over him. Its coiled body crushed his bones together painfully. Drake winced in disgust when its tongue brushed his face, tasting him. Then its maw opened up and revealed the long, venomous fangs and the pink insides of its throat.

Fear pumped through Drake as he tried not to look at his death. "An honorable Boggan would stare death in the face and not blink," Mandrake would preach to him in his lessons. "In fact, he would laugh and spit in death's eye!" Yet being alone in a wasteland with only a snake to eat him, honor was the last concern on Drake's list. What crushed him was the fact that he'll die a failure.

The cottonmouth was about to devour him when they were suddenly plucked from the sand bank. The Boggan let out a startled cry at the sudden movement. Drake's eyes teared up from the wind, blinding him, but he felt the sensation of air and heard the snake hissing vehemently. The serpent's body unraveled its hold on him.

Drake clutched the body as they were both whipped through the air. He cracked open his eyes and was able to make out rough, yellow feet tipped with long black talons wrapped around the snake. The flap of giant wings beat his eardrums, and a triumphant screech tore through the air. Drake looked up to see the feathery belly, streaked with brown, and a wide russet-red tail. Carrying him and the moccasin was the largest of the buteos in the sky: the Red-Tailed Hawk.

_Brilliant, just brilliant! Not only do I get eaten by a snake, but I'm snatched by a hawk in the same exact moment! _Yet he marveled at his luck. The hawk had made an untimely, unintentional rescue!

Blinking away the tears, he saw the land pass under him in a gray blur. He recognized the landscape. They were going to fly over Wrathwood.

Mind racing, Drake turned over his options. Jump from here to the ground? He could make it, but he'd be returning home without a prize. Yet staying up here didn't seem wise either. He couldn't let the red-tail kill the snake; it was his target, he had to slay it. The weight of his improvised thorn sword suddenly became apparent. A little nugget of inspiration grew in his mind and he had a plan.

The assassin scooted up the writhing serpent body, almost losing his grip on the slippery scales twice. Drake reached the giant yellow feet that held a death grip on the snake's torso. The venomous moccasin was getting over its initial surprise of being violently snatched, and was rearing its head up to bite its captor.

At the same time, the hawk's beak was poised to rip its throat out. Using his thighs to stay in place, Drake lifted his upper body, pulled the makeshift sword from his belt, and stabbed the nearest raptor foot.

The red-tail cried out in pain and released the cottonmouth. As Boggan and serpent plummeted, Drake was thankful that he hadn't put any Rot poison on his thorn sword. The hawk would be fine; although probably not happy he lost a meal.

The Boggan assassin turned his face to look at the incoming trees. Pushing through the air, he latched onto the snake again. This was the perfect time to kill the snake, when it couldn't maneuver itself through the air. At least, that is what he thought. Yet if he could do it, so could the brute. The moccasin whipped and contorted its body, shaking off Drake's hold and falling faster than him.

They hit the ground. Drake had been aiming for a relatively clear spot, and landed in the mud to cushion his fall. But the wind left his lungs with a _whoosh!_

Gasping, he turned himself on his elbows and got to his feet. Drake looked up and saw the hawk circling in the blue sky, looking for them. Drake's free fall ended in the center clearing, a popular hangout for young Boggans and a training area for the warriors. His fellow species stared at him with wide eyes, many looking up to see where the hell he came from. The whispers started as quickly as a forest fire.

But Drake ignored them all and picked up his sword. Where was the snake?

A rustle from the dead foliage grew louder with every second. Emerging from the grass, the hissing moccasin had its mouth wide open and fangs extended. If it hadn't been pissed before, then it surely was now!

"Oh, come on dammit!" Drake cursed in exasperation. Why wasn't the monster dead?! It just freaking fell from the sky!

The moccasin advanced blindingly fast, maw open to receive him. Drake took a chance and hurled some thorns at the reptile. Most bounced off but one lodged in the soft tissue in the roof of its mouth. The snake hissed in pain but did not slow down.

Drake knew now how to kill this beast but he had to do it fast. The Boggan warriors were rallying to fight the snake, and he could not let them kill it. _It has to me!_

When the snake was nearly upon him, Drake did not evade. Gritting his teeth and brandishing his thorn sword, he lunged for the monster's mouth.

To all watching, it must looked like he had lost it and committed suicide. Drake wouldn't ever know; the snake closed its jaws and trapped him in the dark throat. He didn't need to see to do this though. By jumping in voluntarily, the Boggan missed being injected with venom. Drake slashed his thorn sword wildly, not knowing what he was hitting and not caring.

He kept going at it, almost in a berserker rage. The assassin ignored the slick saliva, the blood spraying on him, and the god awful smell of the snake's insides. The sound of hissing was ten times louder and hurt his ears.

Finally, when he couldn't take it anymore, Drake turned to where he felt was the exit. It was completely dark, and slimy liquid was dripping into his eyes. He had lost his bearings; panic seized him before he could control it. The fear of suffocating fueled him, and he began to strike and lash out with his sword. Drake kept hitting and tearing through the squishy inside, desperate for fresh air.

Just when he thought he would never make it out, he slashed an opening and light poured in. Hungry for it, he dug like an animal. Drake ripped the opening to make it larger and burst into blinding light. Sweet oxygen hit his nostrils and he sucked it in. Noise collided with his eardrums like a tidal wave. His eyes took a few minutes to adjust before he made out the crowd surrounding him...and the limp snake.

Drake slowly looked the creature over. It was dead, and the mouth hanging open crookedly. Blood poured profusely from its maw; its eyes were wide in frozen shock. Drake had completely and utterly destroyed the inside of the snake's throat, and had busted out by the back of its neck.

The young assassin turned his attention back to the crowd. King Mandrake stood in the front line, his son at his side. They both had their jaws loose, stunned beyond the limit. Despite feeling absolutely drained, Drake got to his feet and stood straight. God, he must be quite a sight! He felt covered in blood from head to toe, with snake spit and goo dripping of him. He could already feel the puddle he was making under his feet.

"My King," the Boggan said with a salute. "The moccasin that you requested."

Somehow, Mandrake got his jaw working. "Never, in all my life, have I witnessed such an action as crazy as that. To do that, a Boggan must have a true drive to make a title for himself out of the army. Drake, I myself, your teacher, had not realized the depth of your determination until now." Making his voice louder, he addressed the Boggans. "This my friends, is a true Boggan warrior!"

The Boggans cheered their approval and praise. Drake did not bother to hide his smile. Mandrake's words were all that he needed.

However, the celebration was cut short by a warning call. "Incoming raptor!"

They all looked up to see the brown and red form of the hawk stooping towards them, screeching its own war cry. Boggans scurried away for cover like mice. Mandrake and Dagda quickly moved for shelter.

Drake knew why the red-tail was still here. It wanted food and had spotted it lying dead on the ground. The hawk didn't care if he ate fresh-kill or carrion.

A territorial predator suddenly awakened in Drake. The trophy he had worked so hard for, what he nearly died for, was going to be snatched away by a stupid bird! _Hell no!_

A small bushel of dry brush lay by the snake's head. Drake ran to it, taking out his flint and stone from his pocket. It was the first lesson of 'survival of the fittest' he learned; you never know when you'll need to light a fire. So he never left home without a flint and stone.

Drake struck them together, sparks flying out. It took him three times but a little flame caught on the brush. Shielding it with his hands, the assassin gently blew on it until it got bigger. Soon, it consumed the dead brush. The hawk was almost upon the snake.

Drake grabbed the stem and waved it at the bird. The fire flared brighter at the excessive oxygen. The red-tail cackled in fear and veered away before it could singe its feathers. The hawk tried again but Drake waved him off with the fiery brush.

The bird of prey banked up, soaring away from the fire. It had decided that trying to take a dead snake from the determined, little being was more trouble than it was worth.

The Boggan watched as the hawk grew smaller in the distance. The fire in his hands died down, having burned up its fuel. The Boggans crept from their hiding places, gawking at the assassin with the burnt brush in his hands.

"He protected his kill against the hawk!" a Boggan shouted. The rest followed up with yells and shouts and roars. They held high their weapons, a sign of respect to Drake.

Mandrake clapped him on the shoulder, even though Drake was still covered in blood and goo. The King was smiling at him, obviously proud of his student and personal assassin. Drake caught the jealous glint in Dagda's eye.

"Now that just clinched it!" Mandrake exclaimed. "This Boggan has outdone my expectations! We shall celebrate his valor with a feast- a banquet of snake meat!"

They yelled even louder and immediately began hauling the snake away to prepare for the feast. Mandrake smiled at Drake. "You must go get yourself cleaned up for the party. You did well, my assassin. You did very well!"

So even though he was drenched in blood and saliva and had nearly died several times, Drake was the happiest he had ever been in forever. This was the best day of his life!

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**Review please! :)**

**We are going to play, "Where's Nod?" virtual cookies for the winner, if you tell me where he is before I reveal him! Mwahahaha!**

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	4. Field Test

**im sorry guys for not updating in a while. School's a bitch. Im barely passing german…and I hate the class with a burning passion. Seriously, if u could gather all the assholes and shallow people in your school and put them in one class with a teacher who doesn't know how to control them, then that's my 6th period.**

**Anyway, enough with the rain clouds! On with the story and a review at the end!**

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"_**You thought you were there to guide me. You were only in my way. You're wrong if you think that I'll be just like you."**_

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M.K. surveyed the troops that were to follow her orders. Most of them were middle-aged, indicating that they were veterans. M.K. could tell pretty easily. They all had the same look as Ronin. Toned muscles, a regal bearing, and many had lines etched in their faces, the sign of seasons of combat. But it was the look in their eyes that clinched it. Like Ronin, their eyes hid tragedies and hardships behind an iron wall of resolution.

She refrained from rubbing her temples to relive the pressure building up to a headache. The soldiers were giving her a hard time. Ever since Officer Laure introduced her to them in the barracks, the Leafmen and women belittled and questioned her at every turn.

The Leafgirl knew why. The Council probably told them to, just to test her leadership and patience. The soldiers were enjoying it, constantly commenting on her age and legitimacy. They were playing with her temper.

M.K. was a little lost on how to handle it. One side of her wanted to snap at the soldiers and force them to obey her, but she knew that's what they wanted. They also wanted her to beg them to listen to her, but a strong leader wouldn't do that.

At the moment, they were mounted of their hummingbirds and waiting in the branches of a tree. They were scanning the area with their hands on their weapons. None of them knew what was in store for them or what they would face. M.K. didn't relax; if she wanted this test to look authentic to the Council, then she had to treat it like it was the real thing.

However, Officer Laure did give her a message from the Council: search and recover the bottle.

She had no idea what the hell that meant, but it had to be part of her test.

"Well, are we going to move or what?" a blond Leafwoman asked abruptly, jerking M.K. out of her thoughts.

"Not until the scout returns," the red-head replied calmly.

The Leafwoman snorted. "This is wasting time."

"Time spent in reconnaissance is seldom wasted."

"...What?"

"Just one of my favorite quotes. I don't know who said it first. I just picked up from my dad."

This seems to stop the Leafwoman's complaints and the group fell into silence once again. Then M.K.'s ears picked up on the familiar buzzing of hummingbird wings. The scout returned and saluted M.K.

"All clear sir...I mean uh...ma'am" he said awkwardly. She smiled to let him know it was okay.

"Let's move," she addressed her troops. "Fly low, four feet above the ground, arrow formation."

They obeyed without question, which was the first time ever today, and followed her down. When they reached the correct altitude, they leveled off and flew just above the undergrowth of the forest, falling into the traditional V-shaped flight formation, with M.K. leading them. The red-head marveled at how silent the hummingbirds could fly when they needed to. She patted her bird's side good-naturedly, but this made it tweet in response. M.K. winced, noting to not do that again. She was aiming for combat silence since she didn't know what she was flying into.

Some meters behind the group, sitting in the branches, two Leafmen watched through binoculars. General Ronin smiled approvingly at M.K.'s tactics. So far, she was doing well, taking her leadership responsibilities in stride and deciding the precaution of being quiet. Finn observed next to him, taking down notes as they followed the group. The Council needed someone impartial to assess M.K.'s actions.

"So far, your girl's doing good Ronin," Finn praised, obviously impressed. "If she keeps this up, she'll figure out that we're watching her before the test is over."

"Then we better be careful old friend," Ronin replied as he packed the binoculars in his saddle bag. "This could be risky for us."

"As if," Finn scoffed as he packed his pair away as well. "We mastered silent movement and stalking years ago."

"I didn't mean me. My stalking is fine. Yours is slipping, however." He didn't give Finn the chance to retort before he flicked his reins and took off. They kept to the canopy and always a good distance behind the unknowing Leafmen and women as they tailed the group.

M.K.'s green eyes continually scanned the flora around her, though she didn't move her head an inch. Every sense was on high alert: eyes, ears, nose, even that instinctual primordial sense that all beings possessed. She kept her breathing slow and even.

The red-head sniffed the air with her nose. Unexpectedly, an aroma filled her nostrils. Immediately, she held up her fist and halted her patrol. The hummingbirds came to a standstill and hovered. M.K. sniffed the air again for confirmation. There it was again; the smell of mud and decaying organisms, with just a hint of rotting plants underlying. It was the Boggans' signature BO.

Reminding herself that this was just a simulation, M.K. combed the foliage with her eyes again, while very subtly pulling the reins back. She reached her hand back and patted her hummingbird's rump. The bird was trained by the signal to fly backwards very slowly. Seeing this, her soldiers followed suit. Slowly, the hummingbirds flew backwards, their riders not making a sound.

All the while, M.K. had never stopped scanning the forest for a sign. Her patience was rewarded when there was just the tiniest flicker of movement in the branches above, at an angle from her squad. Then a tree blocked her view as the hummingbirds were guided behind it.

Using a hand signal, M.K. ordered her troops to land on the forest floor. The birds had sensed their riders' wariness and were silent, not daring to cheep or make a noise. They didn't dismount, in case they needed to take off again. M.K. pulled out her binoculars from her saddle bag. She used the giant, gnarled tree root to hide her and her mount, and kept the binoculars out of the sun so the light wouldn't glint off the glass and warn their quarry.

Once again, she slowly scanned the forest starting where she saw the flicker of movement in the branches. Hopefully, they weren't spotted before they could hide and can take them by surprise.

There! She stilled her binoculars and saw a figure walking along a branch, carelessly out in the open. Initially, she thought it was a Boggan due to the rags and mismatched bone armor it wore.

However, the figure did not walk with hunched shoulders, and had a slim, lithe shape. A wooden sword was strapped to its waste. M.K. smirked when she spotted the green boots that it wore.

A Leafman in the disguise of a Boggan. That was her test?

She could now see more and more in the canopy, a group spread out between two trees. All of them wore weird combinations of stolen Boggan armor, probably obtained after some battle years ago. They carried sticks and wooden practice swords that are given to first-timers for training. Half of them had bows strung on their shoulders, along with a quiver of arrows (probably blunt). M.K. didn't see any birds, giving her squad the advantage of flight.

She turned to address her squad, all them looking at her for direction. She hid a grimace. "Our targets are in the two trees across from us, dressed as Boggans and armed with practice weapons. They haven't any mounts that I can see, and I have every reason to believe that they aren't aware we are here."

"We're lucky that they didn't see us flying straight for them," the Leafwoman from before said. "How did you know they were there?"

M.K. smiled mischievously and tapped her nose. "The odor is a dead giveaway. What's your name?"

"Mira."

"Mira, I need you to scale this tree and find out the positioning of the guards. Do it fast, but don't be seen. Please." She added the please involuntarily; her mother had drilled into her good manners since she was a child.

Mira had cocked an eyebrow at the word in the order but complied and bounded up the tree trunk, using the ridges in the bark as footholds.

M.K. dismounted and knelt, starting to draw in the reddish-brown dirt with her finger. She drew three big circles to represent the trees and lines for the trunks. The Leafgirl frowned at the drawing, wondering about it before a thought crossed her mind. Officer Laure's cryptic message about a bottle. She had only told M.K. because she was in charge, but maybe M.K. should share it with her team. They should know what they were aiming for.

"Alright, listen," she said, keeping her voice low so as not to be detected by the Leafmen-Boggans in the trees. "I was told that we needed to find a bottle, probably with something important, and these guys will most likely have it. There's a dozen of us, and I'm estimating more of them. We'll know more when Mira gets back." Many of the Leafmen nodded their understanding, but M.K. thought she saw a glimmer of approval in one bearded man's eye.

At the word, the Leafwoman returned, huffing a little from her climb and descent. She saluted, "They have two dozen soldiers, twelve distributed in each tree." Seeing the drawing in the dirt, she began sketching the general positions of the guards. "That's double the amount of us. At the top, in the center of the branches are red flags, guarded on all sides."

"Birds?"

"None. All on foot and most with bows and arrows."

M.K. pieced it together. "The flags are our objective. We take them, we take the trees, and we end the field test. But I was told that there'd be a bottle..."

Mira looked up at her. "There was something out of place. One guard was posted between the trees, on the ground." She used her finger to rub a dot in the dirt. "I could barely see him because of the ferns but one of his buddies came to give him a canteen. If it wasn't for that, I wouldn't have known he was there."

One guard all by his lonesome? If that wasn't a clue, then M.K. didn't know what was. She was glad that she had shared about the bottle with her group. The Leafgirl looked over her troops, and then her eyes glanced over the hummingbirds and the large leaf shields strapped to their saddles. The ground they stood on was composed of red dirt or clay, and she swiped some on her finger to examine it. The pieces fell in place and she had a plan.

"Alright, this is what we're going to do," M.K. announced, gaining the men and women's full attention. "But for this to work, we'll need to perform the flying turtle maneuver."

The response was dead silence and a lot of blank looks. "I've never heard of such a thing," a man replied slowly.

M.K. smirked. "That's because I just made it up." Before they could question her further, she fired the next question at Mira. "How do you feel about making your hair darker for the day?"

* * *

Ronin and Finn silently watched from their hiding place near the top of the tree, for what felt like half an hour. They constantly kept watch on the two trees occupied by the Leafmen-Boggans, and on the surroundings for any sort of activity. For a while, nothing happened.

The seasoned warriors had seen M.K. spotted the "enemy" in the canopy and had quietly backed her team away, behind the tall hickory tree where they were now. From their vantage point, it was obvious that the Leafmen in the trees hadn't seen them, for they carried out sentry duty like normal. Now they were waiting for M.K.'s plan to be put into action. Assuming there was a plan...

"What's keeping them?" Finn asked softly, for maybe the hundredth time.

Ronin snorted. "We've been on worse stake-outs and reconnaissance missions than this. Where has all that patience you had years ago gone?"

Finn scowled. "This is different. It's not a real mission."

"Give her time. She knows what she's doing." Ronin had faith in M.K. He wouldn't admit it to many people, but he really wanted her as his apprentice. The girl had so much potential and he wanted to be the one to cultivate it. Ronin didn't have much faith in young people; M.K. was changing his view on that.

He watched the trees through his binoculars again; still no sign of anything. The sounds of the cicadas were soothing and were making his eyelids heavy. Some of the disguised Leafmen were yawning. Perhaps because it was so tranquil that Ronin didn't see what was coming. Or even heard it coming.

The general had the lens to his eyes when Finn patted him on the shoulder. The red-bearded Leafman was taking notes and had an unobstructed view, therefore he saw it first. Ronin followed his pointing finger.

At first to his eyes, it looked like a green ball was skimming through the air, only inches above the forest floor and making a beeline for the occupied trees. Ronin then spotted the multiple pairs of wings beating fast. Six hummingbirds in all flying close together; it was a wonder that they didn't bump each other. The birds were in perfect sync, something only hummingbirds can do. On each bird was a Leafman, holding a shield and overlapping it with the man next to him. It looked like an armadillo rolled into a ball and grew wings.

"God above," Finn breathed. "What in the name of the Queen are they doing?"

"I believe they are attempting to attack the trees and get the flags."

Finn scowled. "I know that but-"

"Just watch."

The Leafmen were getting very close to the trees. A sentry, his eyes half-closed in sleepiness, suddenly snapped his head up at the sight of the incoming hummingbirds and shields. He delayed for a few seconds, not believing what he was seeing. Then, he shouted sounding confused and choked. Commotion ran up and down the branches as the Leafmen-Boggans prepared to attack and guard the flag.

"I knew that wouldn't work," Finn stated. "There was no way that they'd reach the flag before they-"

"There's a another one!" Ronin interrupted. Both men stared as a second formation of humming birds came from the other direction, heading for the second tree. The sentries were already assaulting the first group with wooden arrows, that bounced off harmlessly. They were giving all their attention to it, unaware that a dark horse was heading for the other flag.

The second group ascended up the trunk and through the branches. A sentry shouted the alarm, but it was too late; the formation was barreling past the sentries, arrows deflecting uselessly off the shields. One sentry took a brave stand in front of the flag, but a shield shoved him out f the way. M.K.'s troops dismounted, three of them covering their comrades with a shield as the other went for the flag.

The disguised Leafmen were bewildered as the man grabbed the flag and held it triumphantly above his head. However, the sentries in the first tree did not let up their onslaught of the first formation.

"They may have one, but they need both flags if M.K. wans to past this test," Finn said.

Ronin rolled his eyes. "Ever the pessimist, Finnikin?"

The other man bristled. "I've told you how much I hate my full name!"

Their banter was cut off by loud war cry. A woman had sprang up from the formation, a stick in hand. She ran at the enemy archers with such ferocity, they fumbled their arrows and dropped their bows. She jabbed her stick into the torsos, leaving them gasping for breath. She was already moving, a ponytail of red hair trailing behind her like a ribbon.

"M.K.!" Finn shouted. "What's she doing? Ronin?" The general ignored and stared at the red-head hard.

They watched as she leaped from branch to branch, attacking all the archers but only giving them minor blows, never hitting them over the head. The enemy began to concentrate their efforts on her, giving the formation the opportunity to advance. A Leafman dismounted and bolted for the flag. The red-head warrior shouted in victory at the sight of her comrade holding the flag. A sentry shouted for a cease-fire.

"I guess that's it then," Finn muttered. "Shouldn't have ever doubted M.K. Who knew she could pack such a wallop! Those guys will have bruises for weeks!"

"That's not M.K." Ronin said.

"What?!"

The general pointed at the Leafwoman. She had taken off her helmet and was shouting her exhaltation at the win. Her hair was a lot longer than M.K.'s, her features sharper, and had blue eyes. Finn was incredulous.

"S-so where is she?!"

Ronin smirked. "Going for her true objective."

* * *

The sentry on the ground, hidden by the ferns, watched the whole scene unfold. His job was specifically to not leave his post and protect whatever it was inside the ferns. His fellows up in the trees had to do their own jobs, and from the sound of it, it was more exciting than it was on the ground.

The disguised Leafman snorted and adjusted his "armor" again. He hated wearing these random pieces of bark and animal bones. It was uncomfortable and stank something horrible. He knew this was M.K.'s test and wished she would either admit defeat now or win. Just why was he on the ground?

The hairs on the back of his neck rose before he heard the sound. Quickly, he turned around only to have the end of a stick pushed against the soft skin of his throat. Holding the stick was a very happy red-head.

"Now soldier," M.K. lectured smugly. "If this was a real battle, you'd be dead in no time."

The guard dropped his wooden sword and surrendered politely. "You win M.K. Just don't let it get to your head." He held up his hands, letting a little smile crack his face. _At least I can go home now,_ he thought.

"I won't," she replied, less bravado in her voice. She lowered her stick and walked further into the ferns to retrieve her prize.

Nestled in the moss and shielded by the ferns, was the bottle. It was made from green glass and had a cork in the opening. A message was rolled up inside. M.K. picked it up, but put it down again when she saw something next to it. A dagger, twelve inches long and beautifully crafted.

M.K. picked it up and felt how balanced it was, like it was made just for her. She could tell the blade was made out of the finest rock, finer than a Leafman's katana. The hilt was engraved with the signature green vines, and in the center of the cross-guard was the Moonhaven crest.

M.K. placed the dagger back down and picked up the bottle again. She slid the message out. Her hands were almost shaking in anticipation as she unrolled the parchment. The broken sunlight illuminated the words scrawled on its surface.

_Congratulations, Mary Katherine Radcliffe. If you are reading this, then that means you have passed our test. Return to Moonhaven and present me with this scroll and the ceremonial dagger. You are now the official protégé and future successor of General Ronin of the Leafmen. May the heavens watch over you and may your decisions be guided by wisdom. Good luck!_

_Queen Tara Of The Forest_

M.K. could barely breathe. She did it! She actually has the job!

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**Thats it! I need to post these chapters so you guys can read the juicy stuff! But it's never a good idea to rush a story, you gotta pace yourselves or your readers won't like it. Anyway, please review, because you need to. RIGHT NOW!**


	5. Conflicting Forces

**Here's another chapter. I'm begging you guys to have patience, for nod is still not showing his face but don't worry...I HAVE A PLAN! He's not hiding in his shell...teehee**

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"_**I could be cold. I could be ruthless. You know I could be just like you."**_

* * *

Drake decided to slip away from his party around midnight. If he had to stay any longer, his heart would give out because of how much pride and happiness he felt. The day had tired him and out and he felt dead on his feet. His head was swimming a little from the drink he had: a strong, bitter concoction, made of...what was it again? Drake couldn't remember.

Of course, he wanted to head to bed but he had one more thing to do. He walked drunkenly up the bridges toward the top of Wrathwood. At the top, the moon shines brilliantly, casting its soft white light on the dull wasteland. Feeling unbalanced, Drake placed a hand against the warped wood and brings his fingers up to his mouth. His whistle, usually piercing and loud, sounds weak and sluggish.

Nevertheless, it does the trick. Out of the dark landscape, a black shape flies eagerly towards him. It lands on silent, black wings and peers at him with round yellow eyes.

"Hey Merle, my girl," Drake slurs and teeters over to his grackle. He stumbles over his own feet, but his bird catches him with her gigantic beak.

Regaining his balance, the assassin strokes the ebony black head feathers, right where she likes it. "Thanks," he says, then chuckles when he realizes what he said earlier. "Did you here that Merle my girl? I'm a poet and I didn't know it."

"You're an idiot, and everyone knows it," a harsh voice says behind him. Trying to turn around, Drake once again loses his balance and Merle catches him again before his head can hit the ground.

"You're lucky you have that fleabag, you bumbling oaf!" the voice snaps. "She's got more brains than you!"

Drake knew exactly who it was; that voice is unforgettable. "Ah, lay off Zuri, I only had a drink." With Merle's help, he regains his feet and looks at the figure through swimming vision.

"Whether it was one or ten, you can't handle it, you insolent whelp!" she snaps. "Now come with me to my burrow so you can have a proper drink!" Her tone left no room for argument.

Drake being drunk Drake, decided to argue. "But your drinks... are dis...disgusting..."

"Oh for the love of Rot, now the boy is stuttering!" She took his arm and draped it over her shoulder, taking him down the stairs. Merle cawed her goodbye and nestled where she perched, loyally waiting for her rider's return. Zuri dragged him down the spiral staircase, crossing some bridges to walk down hallways. Drake protested weakly at first, saying "if he can kill an adult snake and fight off a giant hawk, he can hold his liquor," but she hears none of it.

It felt like forever before they reach the ground, at the very musty bottom of Wrathwood. The dirt is moist and cold. Zuri uncaringly shoved Drake away, the latter being too dizzy to keep a standing position. Through sleepy eyesight, he watches as she pushes some dead leaves aside, revealing a hole. She grabs him again and they jump down into it.

Though it is pitch dark, Zuri walks confidently through her tunnel, dragging the young Boggan with her. The tunnel opens up into a more spacious cave, completely black. She guides him over to the cot, knowing the exact layout of the cave, and drops him on it. Drake laid there unmoving, listening to the sounds of her shuffling, cursing, and the thunk of wood being thrown in a pile. There's a scratching noise, followed by a tiny flame. It catches and grows brighter.

A minute later, the fire is raging on the wood and illuminating the cave with dim, orange light. Zuri lights the end of a stick and moves about the cave, lighting various lanterns of different shapes and sizes. Soon, the whole room is adequately lit and the smells of incense burn through the still air.

At this point, Drake succumbs to fatigue and intoxication, drifting off to sleep. He faintly hears Zuri cursing him, and the sound of boiling water and the occasional clang of a ladle against an iron pot. All the noises sound far away and muffled, like he was underwater.

The Boggan barely feels the hand that lifts up the back of his head. A ladle is put to his lips and its content is poured into his throat. Two seconds pass, before a horrid taste invades his esophagus, bringing him out of his nap. He immediately sits up and gags to get the liquid out, but Zuri clamps a hand down to prevent him from spitting it out.

"Swallow, you idiot!" she scolds. Drake refuses a bit longer, but then can no longer stand the taste and swallows. He felt his insides cringe as he forced his body to take in the revolting drink.

Zuri removes her hand from his mouth, allowing him to gasp at the sudden attack on his taste buds. She places a mug of water at his lips, and he drinks greedily, eager to rid the flavor from his mouth. It partially washes it away. Drake drops his head back on the pillow, feeling exhausted.

"It should work in a minute or two," Zuri mutters.

True to her word, the potion works its magic. The fogginess in his head is pushed away, like curtains pulling back to reveal brilliant sunlight in a dark room. His eyelids become lighter, his vision returns to normal, as does his hearing. Drake feels alert and attentive, the dizziness dispelled from his head.

The assassin slowly sits up, not trusting his equilibrium. Though the effects of the drink are gone, he feels a pounding headache coming on. He lets a groan escape as he rubs his rubs his temples to try to relieve the pressure.

If he expected sympathy from Zuri, then he was sorely disappointed. Drake glanced up and looked around the familiar underground burrow. It was spacious but also cozy. The ceiling was high enough so you didn't have to bend or bump your head. The dirt walls and floor were dry due to the constant fire that burned in the fireplace. Somewhere above the flames, a hole allowed the smoke to escape. Woven reed mats covered the floor, and five cots lined the right wall, one of which he was sitting in. The other wall had a long counter and cabinets. Dead leaves and empty husks were strewn across the table, or hanging in bundles from the ceiling. Pots and cauldrons held questionable contents, while glass vials contained mysterious liquids that Drake did not want to investigate.

"The headache will go away in a couple of hours," Zuri said from her spot at the counter, mixing something in a bowl. "Hopefully, your taste for sleer goes with it."

Drake focused on the female Boggan. She hadn't changed since the last time he saw her. Zuri had a slim figure but was short for a Boggan. When Drake was ten, he almost reached her shoulder. Now at nineteen, he towered over her. Did he take advantage of the height difference? Well, he would, but Zuri would kill him if he tried to assert his manly dominance. If he even said the words, "manly dominance," she'd laugh and say there was no such thing in her burrow. Then, she would smack him.

The female still wore the same clothes he'd always seen in her in; a dress sewn from dead leaves that floated above the floor at the ankles, where her feet were clad in makeshift vole fur boots. It matched the ragged, vole fur shawl on her shoulders. A headdress, woven from cattail leaves and adorned with small pebbles, covered her head. The veil was pulled back to reveal her mouse-like face. She wore a big necklace of bones on her neck.

Drake fixed a glare on her. "I was completely fine! You didn't have to make me drink that!"

She snorted derisively, "If I hadn't found you, you would've fell off Wrathwood and broke your neck." He could tell she didn't want to argue about this.

"Well….can I please have something for the headache?" he asked submissively, hoping to appease her enough to give him something. His migraine had grown worse since he came to.

She spun around and rummaged around the cluttered counter top, pushing wilted leaves and roots around as she searched for the right herb. "You're lucky I've collected extra ginger and feverfew! The bones told me there would be severe headaches in the near future."

Zuri was not joking. The bones really did tell her. On top of being the Boggan's best healer, she also told the future. Most of the time, she used her bones, but she could also tell it in the way birds fly, how a flower dies, or by the changing shapes of the clouds. Sometimes, the message would come to her in dreams or visions, but that was very rare.

The Boggan healer turned back to him with a steaming cup of ginger and feverfew tea. Drake sipped it slowly, careful not to burn his tongue. She watched him, making sure he drank it all. Drake would never call Zuri a mom out loud, but thinking it over, she was the closest that had ever come to it for him. She didn't put up with any nonsense. When Mandrake took him in, she was there to patch up his injuries and scold him for it. When she heard that it was Jok that had abused him in the past, she refused to treat any wounds the Boggan might sustain. Mandrake had to make Jok give her and Drake a public apology before she relented.

"You could have been killed you know," Zuri muttered as she organized her herbs, bringing Drake out of his thoughts. "And all for what? A useless title!"

"I had everything under control," he replied. "All I've wanted was to belong somewhere. I look different from other Boggans, so yeah, I had to prove myself. Even though I'm Mandrake's top assassin, I still had to prove myself to them, and I did. So it's done. The title is not useless."

"A title is not something you can touch, hold, or see, not even something you can feel. Next to having a friend or a mate, a title is meaningless and empty."

"Nobody wanted to be my friend, and I was tired of trying to make one. Besides, I'm not interested in finding a mate. I have more important things to think about than girls."

"You're nineteen now, Drake," she said. "That's the time most males pick a spouse. You'll be the oddball if you don't follow that custom."

"Maybe I'll get one, maybe I won't. I think I'm beyond caring though."

Zuri gazed at him for the longest time, her yellow eyes studying him like he was a plant specimen. Drake was surprised when he saw concern in her expression. She spoke softly, "Oh, Drake. Don't you ever tire of the killing?"

He brought his gaze to the floor. "I do what I'm told." At times, he felt disgusted at what his job consisted of, and what he had done in the past, but for the most part, he didn't feel anything. The assassin didn't enjoy killing, nor did he try to escape it. There was nowhere to go anyway. It was a matter of survival; he just lived with it.

"What if one day, you're told to do a dark thing? A task that will damn your heart to hell."

Drake bit back a snarl of irritation; this wasn't the first time the healer had brought this up. "I'm already going to hell, Zuri! What darker things can I do besides assassination?"

She didn't answer and continued to gaze at him sadly, which just made him angrier. He hated pity. Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of feet slapping against dirt and someone tripping and swearing their way down the tunnel. A Boggan appeared at the entrance, dirt scuffing his legs where he had fallen in the dark.

"Lady Zuri," he dipped his head in deference, and looked surprise when he saw Drake sitting on the cot. "M-my Lord Drake! Are you hurt, sir?"

"No, I'm fine. Just visiting an old friend." Drake gave Zuri a pointed glare, reminding her that he didn't come here willingly. She completely ignored him.

"What is your message?" Zuri queried.

The Boggan regained his composure. "King Mandrake has summoned you, to cast the bones."

The fortune-teller stiffened, as did Drake. The only reason the Boggan King ever asks the old healer to tell the future, is because he wants to go to battle. Or war.

* * *

Mandrake was in his throne room, sitting elegantly on his rotting carcass throne, his bat cloak draped over it. Dagda stood by his right side, back straight as a soldier. On the left side of the throne stood the high appointed advisers and commanders of Mandrake's army.

Zuri and Drake walked in, escorted by the messenger and two Boggan guards. Zuri's veil was pulled over her face, leaving only a gap for her sharp eyes to peer through. It was considered bad luck if the fortune-teller casted the bones with her face open to the public view; Boggans thought that the teller could easily be corrupted by malicious looks in the crowd and the bones affected. Drake thought it was a stupid superstition, but never said so.

Mandrake looked up from examining his bludgeon to greet them with a coy smile. He stood and Drake and Zuri bowed. He signaled for them to stand.

"Zuri, my dear friend, thank you for coming," he said smoothly. "And Drake, I'm glad you're here. Stand at my right side."

The assassin moved silently to where he was told, taking a place next to Dagda. The Prince shot him a malevolent look, but he ignored it and watched Zuri as she lowered to her knees. She reached under her shawl and unrolled a rectangular reed mat on the floor in front of her. Then she brought out two incense bottles, one filled with animal blood, the other filled with infamous Rot poison. This was actually Drake's first time watching a casting, and he was on edge and curious to see what would happen.

"To begin," she said in a hollow voice. "Please state your purpose for this telling."

Mandrake replied, "War."

"With who?"

"Queen Tara and the Leafmen." Everyone in the room knew that already, but the statements were part of the ritual. You couldn't skip over them.

Zuri was silent for a moment before continuing, "What do you want to hear in the blessing?"

Mandrake smirked arrogantly. "That the battle I fight tomorrow is victorious and crushes an important posting of the Leafmen's borders." All the commanders and Dagda growled and grunted in anticipation. Zuri waited for silence; when they quieted she held out her hands, palms up.

"Then let's begin," and with that, the sticks in the incense suddenly flicked aflame. Streams of scented smoke curled in the air, reminding Drake of the movements of the moccasin. Soon, the incenses' cloying smell filled the room. Drake had to fight to keep from coughing at the overpowering smells of blood and Rot.

Zuri closed her eyes, and everything got eerily quiet. Then, she began to hum.

It started deep and guttural, like the sounds a wolf makes when it begins to hunt. Though it was a low baritone, it was loud in volume. The hairs on the assassin's arms stood on end; he didn't know why, but the humming sounded so primitive, it awoke something ancient in his blood. It was affecting the other Boggans too. Their shoulders were hunched like hunters and their muscles were tense as if they were ready to pounce. Even Mandrake, most of the time calm and collected, sat more rigid in his seat.

Zuri's humming became faster and higher. Now she was murmuring ancient language while humming in between. The smoke was getting thicker, the smells almost suffocating. The Boggan commanders were even twitchier; everybody seemed on edge like something would jump out and shatter them.

Her humming reached a crescendo, and she waved her hands out, making the smoke curl around her. It was like two dragons had the nose sniffles. It was that cloudy in the room, and Drake was itching to run out the room for fresh air.

Zuri tore her bone necklace from her neck and threw them down on the reed mat; the sudden clack of them hitting the floor nearly made Drake jump out of his skin. Just as the bones settled on the ground, an invisible force shoved the incense bottles over, shattering them and spilling blood and Rot poison. Mandrake shot to his feet and a few of the commanders yelped, including Dagda. Unease took over Drake. The fact that an unseen hand had broken the bottles did not look like a good sign.

Zuri did not break from her concentrated mind, though he could see her annoyed twitch of her eye when the bottles broke. The smoke hung in the air, stationary, refusing to filter out. The Rot poison spilled on the floor simmered and ate away at the already dead wood. Drake watched it warily. Boggans were immune to the potion but too much contact with it could prove fatal.

The bone caster leaned over to inspect the bones reading. Each bone had a blank side while the other had a design etched into it. The assassin remembered Zuri telling him about it once; you wanted your reading to have more bones on the designed side than the blank side. The latter meant that the future was unclear and anything could happen.

Nobody stepped closer to see the bones. They waited impatiently for Zuri to begin her interpretation.

"It is split down the middle," she declared. It made the Boggans shift nervously on their feet. Half of the bones were designed; the other half was blank.

Zuri pointed to a bone with two circles crossing each other, a dot in the middle section. "Two lovers will be present at this battle," she said. Then she pointed to a bone spiral and a line through it. "It will take place among the greenery."

Mandrake interrupted her. "I know where my battle is taking place. I chose the spot! Now tell me who will win."

Zuri's eyes flashed at him, and though her face was covered, Drake could tell she was snarling. Zuri hated being interrupted by anyone. But she seemed to reign in her indignation and continued with the telling. "The bone with the three lines means many will be injured, however it fell next to the bone with the square, meaning just as many will be healed. Two identical bones in my collection have fallen across from each other; their designs represent powers, so magic will be clashing."

The bone caster pointed to circular bone with a star-like etching, sitting in the center of the pile. "The effects of this fight will have resonance, yet how powerful, I cannot tell." She didn't explain exactly what that meant, leaving Drake a little confused and curious.

The King was satisfied so far, and Drake got his hopes up, thinking this battle wouldn't be so bad after all. The Boggan commanders were murmuring reassurances to each other.

"However, half of these bones are flipped," Zuri stated gravely. "I'm forbidden from turning them over. The future is unclear, but one thing is for sure." The healer pointed at the smallest bone in the pile. It had a crescent-shaped line in the center of a triangle. "This one only appears when-"

Suddenly the bone she pointed to jumped. Zuri snatched her hand away, and the Boggans cried in surprise and fear. The bone jumped again, higher into the air, and landed with a _clack_ on the center circle bone. Nobody dared move, their eyes riveted to the little bone.

"Impossible," the Boggan female breathed.

Mandrake swept to his feet, staff in hand like he was ready for a fight. "What does it mean?"

Zuri bowed her head until it almost brushed the floor. Drake was shocked; it was the most public act of deference he had ever seen her display. Her voice was full of wonder. "Mandragora has interfered with the future! She's changed it!"

Commotion erupted, questions being bounced back and forth. Drake's mind raced. Mandragora was their primary goddess, creator of the Boggans as the story goes, and the maker of Rot. He wasn't a very religious person but Drake knew to respect the goddess and all her deeds. But never had the goddess spoken to them so...directly. Usually, she just left them to their own devices.

"Calm down everybody," Mandrake called, raising his hands for silence. The questions died down and they all looked to the King, but Zuri still stared at the bones. Something flashed in her eyes, but it was gone before Drake could name it.

"Zuri," Mandrake began. "Are you sure about this? The great goddess has never taken an interest in our affairs. Are you absolutely positive about this?"

She nodded. "Yes, I'm sure. I've done this for hundreds of years, and I've never seen it happen before, but the trade was passed down to me by the former fortune-teller, and he had witnessed such a thing, centuries ago."

A silence stretched after that, until Mandrake asked his next question, "What does the future say now?"

Zuri did not reply, only because she needed to phrase her telling just right and pick her words carefully. Drake could tell she was thinking cautiously, just by the way she closed her eyes. The silence was deafening, no one even daring to breathe.

The Boggan female opened her eyes and looked right into Drake's, a completely unwavering gaze. "Everything will change."

* * *

M.K. rubbed her eyes, hoping she didn't look to tired. She had been woken in the middle of the night by Finn, and told that Ronin needed to talk to her. Though usually she was a grouch to anyone who woke her up to early, the fact that Ronin's message couldn't wait till morning meant it was important. The girl's curiosity overcame her crankiness; though that didn't stop her from snapping at Finn to get lost so she could get dressed.

After the field test, M.K. rode her hummingbird home triumphantly, her squad of veterans whooping behind her like a bunch of kids. They no longer looked down on her, but showed deference and respect. Ronin and Finn had gone ahead to report the victory. M.K. wasn't surprised that they had followed her in secret. Ronin had nudged Finn, gave him a knowing look, Finn glared, and M.K. got the feeling she missed out on a conversation.

Queen Tara was pleased at her results, as were the Council, when she presented her letter and dagger. They wrote it off for some record, announced the declaration, and congratulated her. Ronin squeezed her shoulder and did not try to hide the pride in his eyes. M.K. had never felt more on top of the world until that moment.

Once all the formalities were done and she was able to get away from the old men and women of the Council, she met Cece outside. Right then, M.K. came down with a headache. She had felt it during the simulation but it was so small she had ignored it. Now it pounded on the inside of her skull. Cece reassured her that it was fine that she missed Nim's party tonight. It didn't really mattered much; Nim Galuu had a party almost every single night.

The headache had prompted her to go to bed earlier than usually. She knew the real work would begin tomorrow. Although, she didn't expect to be at Ronin's office door in the middle of the night. M.K. rubbed her eyes one more time, then turned the handle of the door and stepped in.

The office was much like the man who resided in it: neat, organized, formal, and giving nothing away. Flower lanterns gave off a soft glow, and M.K. had to stifle a yawn. General Ronin was sitting at his desk, shuffling through papers and rubbing his temples. _Geez, doesn't the man ever sleep? _Ronin didn't look tired at all, and his uniform was completely unruffled.

"Oh, good you're here," he said as she came in. His eyes did not leave the papers in his hand. "I'm sorry Finn had to wake you up at this time of night." When he did look at her, he had a faint smile on. "You didn't bite his head off, did you?"

M.K. chuckled, "He got off lightly for it. The lucky one." She fell silent and waited for him to tell her what was so important that Finn had to risk enduring her wrath. Ronin glanced over the papers again.

"The Boggans are going to attack us tomorrow at dawn."

The red-head stiffened, not believing what she had just heard. "What?" she gasped. "How do you know this?" All her sleepiness was shocked out of her.

"We have a mole within the Boggans," he replied. "They alerted us that Mandrake is making a move at the crack of dawn on our western border, at the place where the stream splits. As you know, that is one of our outposts that look out to the mountains. The territory there is sparsely populated by a few Jinn, so it's easy for them to slip through the forest without detection. In a couple of hours, we'll organize a platoon, station ourselves down their, and surprise them in the morning."

M.K. was having a hard time processing this. "Wait, you have a mole?! _A Boggan mole?_ When were you going to tell me this?"

"I just told you, M.K." Ronin said. "I could only tell you only after you were officially inducted as my successor; we can't just hand out that secret to a common soldier." He paused, and M.K. realized that he was right. "Since you're now my protégé, you'll be exposed to more delicate information than the other Leafmen hear. I trust that you can keep the secrets and not brag about it to your friends."

"Of course," she replied confidently. The red-head recognized the fragility of such a situation, and knew better than to tell people about it and risk exposing the informant. But she couldn't contain her curiosity. "Will you tell me who the mole is?"

"In due time. That is also very delicate information. It is best that you don't know that for now."

M.K. trusted Ronin, so she decided to accept that for the moment. Right now, they had other things to discuss. She was very much awake now; an impending Boggan attack would do that to a person.

* * *

"Drake," Mandrake called. "I'd like to have a word with you."

The assassin turned back to his master as the rest of the Boggans present that night filed out of the throne room and to their respective rooms. Zuri had been the first to leave, right after she proclaimed that "everything will change." As soon as she had left, Mandrake cleared the room of tension by laughing at Zuri's drama. Drake, however, knew how serious she was just by the way she stared at him.

He made to approach Mandrake when a hand grabbed his arm. Feeling an instant flare of anger, he twisted to get the hand off and realized it was Dagda. The Boggan was giving him a death glare.

"Just because you think you're the best, doesn't mean he prefers you over me," he hissed. Jealously radiated off him like body oder. "I'm the prince, _his son._ You're just a mud rat he pitied. Got it?" He nearly spat out the last word. Dagda released him and stalked off before Drake could respond.

Shaking off his anger at the uncalled for hostility, he approached Mandrake and fell to one knee in a bow. The King didn't comment on the exchange of him and Dagda, but Drake knew he heard every word of it.

"Quite an exciting day wasn't it?" the Boggan remarked conversationally. "You put the show on with killing that snake and warding off that hawk. They'll be talking about it for weeks, maybe even months. The party we had was just as wild...and now this theatrical prophesying Zuri weaved out of the air!"

Drake stood from his bow. "You don't take her telling seriously?"

"I have a liberal thinking mind set. I don't believe in all that traditional, voodoo muck. I only asked her to read the bones to satisfy some of the older, decrepit generals in my army."

"If you don't like your conservative generals, my King, then why not discharge and replace them?"

Mandrake smirked. "A good point you have there, but I cannot. They have experience and valuable knowledge, and their advice to me is sound most of the time. But I didn't keep you here to discuss politics; I have something for you."

The young assassin raised an eyebrow. The King reached behind his throne and pulled out a bundle. Excitement coursed through him when he saw what it was.

A cloak and a bone helmet. The Boggan's badge of honor. Only the best warriors received such a gift. Mandrake had his bat cape, Dagda wore a rat coat and skull, and he remembered that Jok always donned on a mole cloak with the bony paws as a necklace. Now he was being given one, by Mandrake.

He took the bundle and unfolded the cloak. It was made of pure ebony feathers, styled to look like wings with clasp to secure it. The feathers were fresh and shiny. Without hesitation, he put it on and secured the clasp. The feathers fell against his body, trapping in warmth. The longest feathers, the primaries, tickled the back of his calves. "It's amazing," he breathed. Pride swelled in his chest.

"Try the helmet."

The top of the helmet was made of bone and the front of it had two fangs pointed down. The back had a neck guard of brown scales. Drake placed it gently on his head. It fit nicely, not to snug but not to loose. The fangs just touched his eyebrows and didn't block his vision. "Is this from...the moccasin?"

Mandrake nodded proudly. "Yes, your moccasin. We carved the fangs to be smaller and to fit your head. The scales are thick and will protect the back of your neck. The fangs are free of venom, however..." He reached in his cloak and pulled out two vials. "It is not uncommon for assassin's to use poison."

Drake took the vials and placed them in his belt. He turned around and ran his hands on his new articles of clothing, loving the sensation of running his hands through the black feathers. "This must have been a healthy bird," he remarked.

"Oh, she was. You took care of her after all."

The young Boggan froze, not quite understanding what Mandrake had said. He scrutinized the bird cloak hard, before it dawned on him. And when it did, horror and repulsion took over like a dark cloud.

"You made this...from my bird?" _Merle?_

The King replied like nothing was wrong. "A Boggan's cloak and armor are trophies of his victories. I slayed this bat when I was you're age, and you slayed the snake. Unfortunately, the hawk flew away, so we needed something to symbolize your victory against a bird of prey."

Drake's skin was crawling. "But Mer-...my grackle is not a bird of prey."

Mandrake shrugged. "She was one of the biggest of the grackles in Wrathwood, so she was adequate. But it's late and we have an surprise attack tomorrow. I suggest you get some sleep."

The dismissal was clear and he was more than happy to be alone. He left, his new cloak flaring out behind him, the feathers rustling together slightly. Merle's feathers. After a while, Drake stopped walking and pressed his back against the dead wood of the dark hallway. He sank to the ground, fist clenching around the cloak. He no longer felt any pride in the new possession. Just disgust.

_No!_ He thought. _I should be proud! I earned this, I risked my life for it. The cloak doesn't matter, it's just a symbol, it doesn't mean anything. I'm not a true Boggan if I don't like it. _He would have to get used to it. Besides, it's just one bird. There were many more for him to ride, some of them faster and bigger than Merle. Jok and Mandrake had always told him to not make attachments; this only proved them right. There was nothing wrong with this. It was fine.

* * *

**Wow, Drake's life sucks. REVIEW PLEASE! If you really love this story, then show it with just a couple of words :) your welcome for giving you such a loooonngg chapter.**

**i had read stories using Mandragora as mandrake's father or mother(i cant remember) so i decided to use it as a boggan goddess. i did not come up with her, so im disclaiming, however i dont know who thought her up first.**


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